About Me

Worth reading this:If you relate to the pictures, I'd be happy to read why you felt that way. Just write your story if you want to. I vent and rant through my drawings, this IS an outlet. You're allowed to share. Thats the general idea anyways.

Thursday, December 31, 2009

light is 7 colours

Reflecting on 2009, I've found this, I've lost that, I've found it, but I will always love and learn to laugh. Happy New Year everyone :)------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"i wish the colours never ended..."“We will open the book. Its pages are blank. We are going to put words on them ourselves. The book is called Opportunity and its first chapter is New Year's Day.” - Edith Lovejoy Pierce

“Some day you will be old enough to start reading fairy tales again.”- C.S. Lewis

“Cheers to a new year and another chance for us to get it right." - Oprah Winfrey

Monday, December 14, 2009

i cant find you

This one goes out to all the nice people out there. As long as you believe in yourself and you believe yourself to be nice, its for you. This one is dedicated to an Eleanor Ng, who left me a drawing in my inbox and it inspired me to draw this. Thank you for being nice!---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"I know it will."

"We cannot do great things on this Earth, only small things with great love." - Mother Teresa

Monday, November 23, 2009

tough

This will be a different kind of entry if you do follow miniminiminimoe because it is neither drawings, poems, or stories. This is the flow of my current thoughts, raw.

Raw to the extend that I type as I think, I do not even rationalise/look at it from different angles before typing.

Raw is a cute word.

I find myself to be in a very childish position whereby I am reluctant to change, I do not want to move out of my comfort zone even though I know I should. Stubborn.

When it comes to comedy, I am definitely blessed. In fact, I am incredibly blessed, having actively done comedy only since March 2009, now in November 2009, I have had shows in Malaysia and even given the opportunity to perform in Australia's biggest comedy club. A chance that really do not come by to 'newbies' like me. There is no doubt, no question that all of this can only be achieved with God by your side.

However, there is always a balance in things.

I am not 'gifted' in a lot of other things. I find myself to have many shortcomings. I find it difficult to learn to accept a lot of things, I find it hard not to excel motivated by people important to me. I find it hard to accept my worth.

Nevertheless, I accept all these as me. But I also wonder if I accept them because I dont want to face them, or do I accept them because I have already faced them?

I'd like to think that I put a lot of heart and sincerity into my shows. I'd like to think that I'm merely sharing with you a joke that I have just told myself earlier. I want to be real and honest. I dont want to be a stranger. I want you to know, that if I wasn't on stage but sitting next to you, I am just like you.

However, I believe I am a really mellow person by nature. I'm an urban hermit, almost a social-misfit, and near social retardation...and ALL these ARE the things that allow me to do comedy as I do today. Because of all these 'assumingly negative' traits, I naturally observe different things and just by chance, things that tickles my fancy, can be translated into humour for others.

Therefore, I find myself in a predicament. It feels like at this stage, it is imperative for me to upkeep a facade and 'act my job'. I realise people aren't too comfortable knowing me as a 'comedian' is silent most of the time. I'm sure people are okay and most will 'have an inclination' that 'comedians' can be quite the emo people but not many truly understands and accepts.

It is difficult for me to balance the both. On one hand I want to positively share my upcoming shows and that definite should be done a 'happier tone' but once that is done, I am still myself. A lot of things go through my mind, most are not as 'happy sounding', some are rather negative, but I feel pressured into not sharing them because of the views of my profession.

I find it hard to be sincere and insincere at the same time. I want people to know. Its hard to be sincere because I cannot share the negatives, yet feel insincere because I am not being honest with who I am and what makes me, me.

Just also want to say, you will never find your freedom if you cannot define for yourself the things you generate and produce - thoughts, actions, and intentions.

rain or shine.

"There is an eternal landscape, a geography of the soul; we search for its outlines all our lives" - Josephine Hart

While Sun and the Rain tango,I often ask but I will never pry,Why do you kiss the seven glows,When once bitten twice shy.

+Jenhan

the exit before the entry

“One of the greatest titles we can have is "old friend". We never appreciate how important old friends are until we are older. The problem is we need to start our old friendships when we are young. We then have to nurture and grow those friendships over our middle age when a busy life and changing geographies can cause us to neglect those friends. Today is the day to invest in those people we hope will call us 'old friend" in the years to come.”- Grant Fairley

Thursday, July 23, 2009

A heart with a point

His boots sink into grimy earth with each step he takes. The grass is a bitter olive green, trampled by his boots, black and relentless. He looks ahead to see a fort made of wood. Much like a beaver dam, it was built piece by piece, chunk by chunk, all by himself.

General Han is a one man army with a big fort. Has been a one man army with a big fort for many years now. Han never needed numbers by his side. His predicament doesn’t demand it, for you see, General Han is at war, with no one but himself.

It is extravagantly obscure that General Han builds a fort for protection when the adversary walks in and out as he pleases, just as he himself would. When he sleeps, so does the enemy. When he weeps, so does his enemy. So they said, keep your friends close, your enemies closer.

In his fort is a room, in his room a plastic throne. Everyday General Han would take place on it pondering of things foreign to him. He would wonder what it feels like to be a comet. He would secretly wish to be a shooting star. He always believed that when shooting stars fly by, the other stars actually stop to watch. He would also secretly wish to be the indigo in a rainbow.

General Han’s boots may be black and relentless but the man wears an oversize jacket. Cynics would translate it as inferiority to himself. They see that General Han always seems to be falling short of something. He seems to not fit in. He seems to lack. He was either too untimely, too timely, too unconvincing, or even too kind. But then again, maybe it’s just an oversized jacket, that’s all.

One day, a voice called out from outside the fort, “Han...” It sounded like a whisper, but a loud whisper. Han stood up on his plastic throne from inside his room to peek out the window. He sees no one. “I seek you”, said the voice, this time sounding more female but still gently soft. “Who are you and why?” replied Han.

There was silence.

This whisper doesn’t say much. Perhaps it did, but it was too soft to be audible.

“Are you there? I can’t hear you. Why don’t you send me a mail? So I can read it.” Han yelled out.

There was more silence. Han tip-toed. He then caught a glimpse of tree branches shaking, apparent to be from the quick blow of a breeze. What a sight. Tree branch after tree branch followed suit, from the furthest coming closer. A split second later, Han sees a ‘point’. It was an arrow.

This arrow flew into his room and hit the back wall. It had a note on it. It was in an envelop, made of hemp, in the shape of a heart. Not the shape of love, but a heart.

He grabbed the arrow careful not to damage its feathers. It was a nice arrow. He yanked it and yanked it he couldn’t. He exerted more force and eventually it detached from the wall. For a while, there was a tiny rumbling in the wall.

The heart in hand, he walked back to his plastic throne, sat down, and held the heart in both hands. Just as he was about to open the heart to understand its content, a loud tumbling sound thundered from behind. The back wall was crumbling down. Chunks after chunk fall apart, one block made its way to a nearby pot. General Han’s cooking pot.

Just like the roar of applause, an ovation, the chunks fell on and on, block after block sounding like claps. It was as though, the fort was cheering its own demise. The sides starts falling, followed by the front end of the fort while the back starts catching fire from his cooking pot.

General Han remains seated on his throne celebrated by a thunderous applause of wood, a heart in his hand, unopened still. He starts weeping. By this time, he was already surrounded by an eventual ring of fire. All it took was a pointy stick with beautiful feathers, and a heart attached. General Han’s fort now settles on the grimy earth with the bitter olive colored greens.

He cries in defeat. He had lost to the enemy.

cloudy eyes

"People are unreasonable, illogical, and self-centered. Love them anyway.If you do good, people may accuse you of selfish motives. Do good anyway.If you are successful, you may win false friends and true enemies. Succeed anyway.The good you do today may be forgotten tomorrow. Do good anyway.Honesty and transparency make you vulnerable. Be honest and transparent anyway.What you spend years building may be destroyed overnight. Build anyway.People who really want help may attack you if you help them. Help them anyway.Give the world the best you have and you may get hurt. Give the world your best anyway."- Mother Teresa

Saturday, June 13, 2009

One of those situations.

No drawings to share but a tale of a bus stop, an ice-cream man, and a liar.

I live in a corner house and across the road are a park and a bus stop. 15 years ago, it would be the busiest bus stop of the area and being the busiest, it was inevitably the noisiest and dirtiest.

Soon buses were rerouted but the bus stop remained. Silent, now that marbled bench under brick roofs now regularly housed for 3 old men who have made it their gossip tavern and on a daily basis meet there to talk and exchange views.

One of them would always come with a 'tongkat' in hand, the other seems to wear nothing but a 'sarong' everyday, and the third man, well he seems pretty inconspicuous, except his socks were very often pulled up too high.

Today, at about 6pm it was empty. An odd sight. Even odder was that on my return from the city, I had experienced 'one of those situations'.

'One of those situations' in this context means one of those situation whereby you always think you were prepared to encounter or chance upon it and to a certain extent 'know you would' but when it really does happen, it catches you off guard and leaves you with a choking aftertaste.

That is 'one of those situations'.

As I turn into my lane, the ice-cream man, a 30-ish man, skinny as a twig, was dutifully making his rounds. He was pushing an equivalently slim black bicycle which carried a huge ice box at the back. He rang his bell every 4 steps or so.

He steered it aside for me to pass and I smiled.

After I parked my car, I walked to the bus stop across my house which was quaintly empty today. I sat down, reflecting upon 'one of those situations' which I had just encountered. Unmindful of how many minutes had passed, I was awoken by the chimes of the ice-cream man's bell that was now loudening. He had reached the other end of the road from when I had smiled at him and he was now near the bus stop.

Me, elbow to knee, palm to jaw, raised my head and tipped my chin a little, again I smiled at this 30-ish skinny twig of a man. He returned the smile and raised me wave.

Somehow he stopped, both movement and his consistent bell ringing. He stared at me a little while. I raised my eyebrows to signal "What's up ice cream man?" Though I believe it was unconvincing considering how little expression I show on a daily basis while thinking I give good facial cues.

He opened the top of his ice box, dug through his icy chest, making sounds that were akin to dry autumn leaves rustling on the tarmac.

He pulled out an orange ice cream bar. The one I used to love as a kid. The one that was so orange by the time you're done, not only will your lips be orange, even half the stick turned orange. That one.

He extended his arm and handed the orange bar to me, its packaging still full of broken bits of ice. He side-nodded his head, people here, we understand this gesture as "it's yours, yes, no, and even I don't know."

Why would an ice cream man give you an ice cream, your favourite ice cream, just because you had a face like stone supported by your palms against your jaw line, your elbow resting uncomfortably on your knee?

He wouldn't, because everything I typed after "he steered it aside for me to pass and I smiled," was a lie. It never happened.

I parked my car, glanced at the empty bus stop. For awhile I stood motionless looking at the empty marble seats, wondering if this 'tale' I had generated in that short period of time between first seeing the ice cream man and parking in my house, would actually happen or could actually happen.

One 'one of those situations' in a day would suffice for me. Afraid to possibly experience another 'one of those situations' whereby if I had walked to the bus stop and sat, I could received an orange ice cream bar, I turned around and walked in.

Hearing the bell louder, I peeked over my shoulder and saw the ice cream man walk past my front gate and vanished from sight in a mere 3 seconds.

Friday, May 29, 2009

Meemo: Eat sand!

This is a really special one as it is the first time Meemo has appeared anywhere other than here. You also get to see me. And boy is this Meemo big.

"If you must speak ill of another, do not speak it, write it in the sand near the water's edge."- Napoleon Hill

And a poetic one:-

The Two Gentlemen of Verona , Act II Scene iv

Proteus: Then let her alone.

Valentine: Not for the world: why, man, she is mine own,And I as rich in having such a jewelAs twenty seas, if all their sand wereThe water nectar and the rocks pure gold.Forgive me that I do not dream on thee,Because thou see’st me dote upon myMy foolish rival, that her father likesOnly for his possessions are so huge,Is gone with her along, and I must after,For love, thou know’st, is full of jealousy.